


Never Tear Us Apart

by noodlerdoodler



Series: Hargreeves Appreciation Week [2]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sparrow Academy (Umbrella Academy), Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Injury, Brotherly Affection, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Diego Hargreeves is Bad at Feelings, Everyone Has Issues, Family Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Good Parent Grace Hargreeves, Good Sibling Diego Hargreeves, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Klaus Hargreeves Needs Help, Multi, Other, Reginald Hargreeves Bashing, Stuttering Diego Hargreeves, Telekinetic Klaus Hargreeves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:13:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25993459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noodlerdoodler/pseuds/noodlerdoodler
Summary: Afterwards, they decided to go to Griddy’s for donuts together. It was the closest thing they had to a family tradition.“Thanks so much for coming, you guys,” Allison beamed, as she bit into a jelly donut, and she spoke with her mouth full, (something that never would've been allowed at home), “I take it you talked them into it Ben?”“Actually,” Ben glanced at him, “It was Diego’s idea. He was mad Luther wasn’t coming.”She looked at him with surprise, her eyes tender, and Diego shoved another donut in his mouth so that he didn’t have to say anything in response.-OR: Five times that Diego was a good brother - and one time he wasn't.
Relationships: Allison Hargreeves & Diego Hargreeves, Ben Hargreeves & Diego Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves & Everyone, Diego Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves & Luther Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves & Vanya Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy & Diego Hargreeves
Series: Hargreeves Appreciation Week [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1884436
Comments: 17
Kudos: 246





	1. The Boy

Reginald Hargreeves had never bothered to name his adopted children. 

Not in the conventional sense anyway. Instead of names, they’d only ever had numbers, (One through Seven), and Number Two was fed up. He knew that most children had real names, sometimes even multiple names, that their loving parents had picked out for them. By the time he was old enough to write his name, (if he had one), Two was under no illusion that he had loving parents. 

But his father could’ve at least given him a name. 

That was how he’d ended up tugging on his mother’s skirt, while she made pancakes and hummed to herself. Sometimes, it took a minute to get her attention- almost like she needed a moment to switch settings from “housewife” to “mother”. But when she looked down at him, the loving smile on her face caused warmth to bloom in Two’s chest. He loved his mom. 

“Two, dear, the pancakes aren’t ready yet,” She flipped them in the pan, still looking at him.

Taking a deep breath, Two said, “M-M-Mo-Mom, I w-wa-want-“

He couldn’t even get his sentence out, just another thing that irritated him. Before he could finish, his mom took the frying pan off the heat and moved it onto the cold part of the stove. It seemed that the pancakes had been shafted, in favour of helping her son. Then, she crouched down beside him and cupped his face in her hands, her skin cold to the touch.

“Slowly, dear,” His mother said gently, never harsh like his father was, “Picture the word in your mind, just like we practiced.” 

“N-na-na-name,” Eventually, he managed to stammer out his request, “I w-wa-want a n-name.” 

Two had never said it directly before. In the past, he’d frequently asked why other kids had names while they only had numbers, (“your father’s very busy, silly, it makes it easier for him”), and hinted at the idea that he might want one for his birthday. He hadn’t gotten one. Instead, he’d gotten a set of beautiful throwing knives- very cool but not a name. This time, Two looked his mom in the eye and told her exactly what he’d wanted. Her eyes glazed over like they did sometimes. 

In the end, she just smiled softly at him and went back to cooking pancakes. Two assumed that it was the end of that and huffed off to his room to bury under his blanket, annoyed that he never got his way. He was still in a bad mood later that day, when there was a knock on his door.

“What?” Two grumbled, putting down the knife he’d been playing with. 

Number Six stuck his head around the door shyly, “Mom wants us all downstairs.”

It wasn’t time for lunch yet, (meals were the only time that all of them spent together), so Two was puzzled as he slid off his bed and trotted downstairs with his brother. When they reached the main room, he found that his siblings were lined up in the usual order, awaiting instructions. Even little Vanya was hovering at the end of the line, peeking out from under her bangs.

Silently, Two filed into his place between One and Three, who paid no attention to him. He wondered if they were going to do a new training exercise before lunch but if so, wouldn’t their father be there? Reginald Hargreeves was still holed up in his office upstairs. 

“I know you’ve been waiting a long time,” Grace said, once they were all listening, “So, I’ve spoken with your father and he’s agreed that you can all have your very own names,” Her eyes seemed to sparkle when she glanced at Two, “Isn’t that exciting?"

She’d picked out a name for each of them already, which caused Two’s heart to jump into his throat. What would his name be? What if he didn’t like it? Secretly, he worried that it would be a name starting with ‘M’ or ‘P’, two letters which always tripped up his stutter. The others would definitely laugh at him if he couldn’t even say his own name. 

Grace started at the other end of the line with Seven, who looked quietly pleased when she found out that her name would be Vanya. A Russian name, their mother explained, because she thought it would be nice for them to have names from the countries they were born in. A few of the others started whispering among themselves, notably Four who muttered something to himself in German. When Four was younger, he’d stumbled across the fact that he was born in Germany, which seemed awfully far away. Two had no idea which country he was born in. 

Further up the line, the usually apathetic Five visibly flinched when he was saddled with his name. It was clear that he wasn’t happy with it but their mother didn’t notice, (robots aren’t known for their empathy), and instead moved on to Number Four. He was delighted to be christened with a German name but Two was still looking at his other brother, thinking. Imagining how unhappy he would be if he got stuck with a name he didn't want. No wonder Five looked sad behind his steely facade. 

After Allison got her name, Grace paused by Number Two to smile at him. 

He glanced nervously at his brother, who was staring at his feet, and then spoke up, “M-Mom?”

“Yes, Two?’ She seemed confused about why he’d spoken out of term. 

“Do w-w-we ha-ha-have to h-ha-have a n-name?” He stammered, swallowing his annoyance when someone giggled at his speech, “If w-we d-do-don’t w-wa-wan-want it?” 

Pausing, his mom seemed to consider this for a long moment and then said that she supposed not. No, if they didn’t want the names she’d picked out then they didn’t have to use them. They could still use their numbers or pick out a new name for themselves, (secretly Two wondered if he could just be Kraken full time because _that_ would be cool). She reminded him that it was his idea in the first place, which made him bristle as the rest of them looked at him, but it was okay if he wanted to change his mind. 

But this wasn’t about Number Two at all. In fact, he was very excited to have a name. 

It was about making sure his brother didn't get stuck with a name he hated because he was too stubborn to speak up about it. Once again, he looked down the line at Five and found that his brother was now looking at him curiously, his mouth hanging open as if he was about to say something. Two nodded at him, encouragingly. 

“I’d rather be Five,” he blurted out, immediately, and all eyes shifted to him instead, “I appreciate that you’ve chosen names for us, Mother, but Number Five already is my name.”

At this, there was a quiet hubbub as the siblings turned to each other to mutter about it. While Allison seemed rather puzzled as to why he’d want to keep his number, Vanya was smiling at him sympathetically and said something quietly to Ben. Silently, Diego grinned at Five and then lowered his head again. In the middle of the line, Klaus was still trying out German phrases as if he was unaware that the rest of them were even there. Pretty typical of Number Four. 

But Grace seemed content about Five turning down her name and resumed going down the line. For all his worries, Two was pretty happy with his name- and his ability to pronounce it, as he tried murmuring it to himself under his breath. After Luther got his name, they were all dismissed and allowed to go back to whatever they’d been doing before. The group scarpered, going their separate ways. 

Five ambled over with his hands stuck in his pockets, “Thanks, Diego.”

“Whatever,” He replied with a shrug.


	2. The Rumour

Nobody had been surprised when Allison announced that she was now on a soccer team. This was largely down to two reasons: firstly, she flicked back and forth between several hobbies a week. Each time, she would insist that the latest one was her big passion… Until the next one came along. Secondly, Allison had the power to get anything she wanted just by asking for it. So, when she burst through the door with a soccer shirt and a breathless pink-cheeked delight on her face, none of them were that phased by it. Diego didn’t even look up from his book. 

“Come on, guys,” She groaned, “You could at least try and be happy for me! Luther’s going to come and watch me play, aren’t you, Luther?”

Before their brother could respond, Diego muttered into the pages of his book, “Not like it matters. You’d just rumour him into it anyway.” 

Klaus, who was sitting on the rug with Ben, had to stifle a giggle as he nodded in agreement. They’d all been subject to Allison’s ‘rumours’ enough times before and knew how impossible they were to resist. She abused her power to get them to do whatever she wanted, sometimes even just to make the others laugh. Vividly, Diego could still remember when she’d tricked him into coming down to breakfast in just his underwear because he’d given Luther a black eye the day before. Dad’s face had been a sight to behold. 

“Oh, really?” Allison shot him a look, folding her arms, “That’s funny because I heard a rumour you’re going to practice with me this afternoon.”

No longer stifling his laughter, Klaus was now rolling on the rug in a fit of laughter as Diego was forced off the couch and marched outside. Damn her witchcraft. 

It was a month or so later that Allison’s team had their first big game and she hadn’t talked about much else. The rest of them were pretty tired of hearing about it, even if it was cute to see her so passionate about something. At least, Diego thought to himself, it was better than when she’d gone through her “I want to be a beautician phase” and he’d had to sit quietly while she painted his toenails deathly blue. He’d wanted black and silver. That would've been badass. 

So, when the big day came around, he was pretty surprised to find Luther moping around the house with his geometry workbook. 

“Shouldn’t you be at Allison’s thing?” He asked, squinting at him curiously. 

Looking put out, Luther mumbled, “Monocle says I have to study.”

Of course. Dear old Dad had Number One eating out of the palm of his hand, doing whatever he said because he feared the consequences. His threats worked even better than Allison's rumours did. It was verging on ridiculous how far Luther would go to please their father, since the rest of them were old enough and rebellious enough to sneak around boldly under his nose. Diego had become adept at slipping silently out of his bedroom window years ago. 

“You mean you’re not going?” An image flashed through Diego’s mind of Allison on the soccer pitch, looking around for her big brother and finding that he hadn’t even bothered to see her. Too scared of the iron ruler. When Luther shook his head, looking like a puppy that had been kicked, his brother had already decided what he was going to do. 

Checking his watch, Diego pelted up the stairs to check if anyone else wanted to come; Klaus, as usual, was up for going anywhere, Ben tended to go anywhere that Klaus went, and Vanya shyly confided that she’d hoped someone would go with her. After rounding the three of them up, they rushed to the bus stop to catch the next bus out of town. 

It was a rush to get there on-time. Luckily, most of them had built up their stamina in training, so they were able to run from the bus stop to the pitch. Poor Vanya found it too difficult to keep up. She was used to playing referee and nowhere near as physically fit as the rest of them. Diego let her hop onto his back, wrap her arms and legs around him, and carried her as he jogged. Thank god she was so small. The four of them reached the soccer pitch just after kick-off and weaselled their way into the clump of parents and siblings. 

“Come on, Allison!” Klaus cupped his hands around his mouth, cheering breathlessly, “I heard a rumour you showed those bitches who’s boss!” 

Once he’d learned the word ‘bitches’, he’d started slipping it into conversation wherever possible. It was starting to drive everyone a bit crazy but nobody more than Reginald, which made any annoyance to the rest of them completely worth it. Seeing Hargreeves' ears turn bright red would be the highlight of anyone's day.

Their sister heard her name and her eyes scanned the small crowd, obviously looking for Luther. He was expecting her face to fall when she saw them and for a minute it did but then Klaus let out a whoop, waving his arms in the air. A grin spread across Allison’s face as she saw the three of them cheering them on: Klaus flailed and cheered, Ben clapped his hands enthusiastically, and Vanya bobbed on her toes, waving a hand whenever her sister came nearby. 

At first, Diego just stood with his hands in his pockets and watched, nodding thoughtfully. He'd never seen a soccer match before and wasn't that interested. What he didn’t expect was to get caught up in the action, screaming at the referee when they gave the other team a penalty and punching the air whenever Allison had the ball. She was actually pretty good, considering she was a newbie, and he took some of the credit for being the one who had practiced with her. Even if it wasn’t always through choice. 

During the second half, the coach had to come over and tell them to cool off because they were distracting the players with the chant they’d started up: _VENI, VIDI, VICI, GO ALLISON HARGREEVES!_ Dad probably would’ve been proud of them for coming up with that one. 

It was a shock to the system when their sister’s team lost by one point and Diego had to be wrestled away from the referee, since he was still furious about that penalty. 

Still, Allison looked pleased to see them when she came jogging over in her kit. Even though her team had lost, the four of them insisted on hoisting her up and carrying around as if she’d just won the World Cup. She was laughing as they carted her around the pitch, squealing as Ben nearly dropped her. In the end, the five of them ended up in a heap in the artificial grass after Vanya slipped and they fell like dominoes. Diego couldn't help laughing, even if he was being crushed by the combined weight of Allison and Ben.

Afterwards, they decided to go to Griddy’s for donuts together. It was the closest thing they had to a family tradition.

“Thanks so much for coming, you guys,” Allison beamed, as she bit into a jelly donut, and she spoke with her mouth full, (something that never would've been allowed at home), “I take it you talked them into it Ben?”

“Actually,” Ben glanced at him, “It was Diego’s idea. He was mad Luther wasn’t coming.” 

She looked at him with surprise, her eyes tender, and Diego shoved another donut in his mouth so that he didn’t have to say anything in response.


	3. White Violin

After the fifth time he’d seen Klaus get resuscitated, only to leap up immediately and snort crack in the hospital bathroom, Diego had insisted on being taken off his emergency contact list. He’d been cleaning up his brother’s messes ever since he left home and it had started to become incredibly draining, taking a mental toll on him after a while. It was actually Eudora who had suggested taking his name off, after he’d plonked his brother in rehab again, saying that Klaus needed to take some responsibility for himself. They were grown-ups now. Not kids anymore. 

He’d been with her actually, bothering her, (which meant flirting with her), at the police station, when he’d gotten the call. Irritated, Diego had checked his phone and saw it was the hospital. Instead of the usual fear seizing his body, he couldn’t help being annoyed. What didn’t they understand about taking him off the emergency contact list?

Regardless, he picked up the phone, “What’s he done this time?”

“Oh, uh,” There was a pause, “I’m calling on behalf of Vanya Hargreeves. She has you listed as the person to contact in an emergency,” Something inside him twisted violently, making him feel sick, “She’s been in an accident.”

“Vanya…” He breathed, thinking of the sister that he hadn’t seen in over two years, “Is she okay?” 

“She regained consciousness half an hour ago,” The voice on the phone told him that he was allowed to come and visit if he wanted. They also had a few questions about her medical history- did Vanya have any allergies? Did she take any medication? He wasn’t really sure. Nobody had ever really paid that much attention to baby Vanya, who had been the black sheep of the family. 

Eudora looked slightly concerned, which meant there was obviously some distress present in his voice, “Something wrong? Is it your brother?” 

“My sister’s in the hospital," He got to his feet, "An accident. I need to go-“ 

Quickly, she touched his arm, “I can drive you there.” 

It wasn’t far but he was grateful that she drove because the idea of little Vanya being injured made his knees feel weak. She had always been off to the side during training, hiding behind her hair as if she didn’t want them to look at her, and the worst injury she’d ever had was when she’d skinned her knee. Vanya had sobbed the whole time she was being patched up.

Even though she was alive, Diego couldn’t help imagining the worst. His sister hooked up to beeping machines, an IV laced into her arm, and her head lolling to the side as she cried in pain. When he got to the hospital and raced in to see her, he was secretly glad to see that she looked okay. Just a cut lip, her left arm in a sling, and a few bruises here and there. 

Looking a bit dazed, Vanya was propped up on some pillows and didn’t seem to notice him.

“What happened to you, V?” He asked, ducking around the curtain to sit on the edge of her bed. No IV, luckily, or he probably would’ve blacked out from the sight of the needle.

“Oh, Diego, hey,” Blinking a few times, Vanya looked puzzled as to why he would be there but pleased all the same. Maybe she’d forgotten that he was on her list, maybe she’d been hoping for one of the others, or maybe, worst of all, she’d assumed that he would just hang up the call and pretend he hadn’t got it. His suspicions lay with the last one. 

He grabbed hold of her chart and scanned it, “Car accident? You don’t have a car.”

“I was crossing the street, going to rehearsal,” Vanya explained, “I, uh, wasn’t really looking where I was going. They said I got lucky though. Something knocked the car off course, like the wind or something, so I only really got grazed.” 

“Bet it hurt like a son of a bitch though,” Diego flipped through the pages, before putting the chart back where he’d found it, and finally looked at his sister. Really looked at her.

All things considered, she looked good. Like the rest of them, she’d finally outgrown her Academy uniform and was now dressed in a plain button-down shirt, a splash of blood on the collar from her busted lip. When they were kids, Vanya had always had bangs that nearly covered her eyes but she’d grown them out, her mousy hair tied in a ponytail at the nape of her neck. She was looking at him a little pathetically, as if she was expecting him to grow tired and leave any minute. 

With little else to say to each other, Diego finally made an attempt at small talk. He told her that he’d dropped out of the police academy- nobody needed to know that he got kicked out- but he had a cosy place in a boiler room behind a gym. It was always warm and, even if it sounded a bit sad, Diego preferred living in a small space rather than the big empty house they’d grown up in. In exchange for bed and board, he mopped the floors at the gym and the owner was nice, if a little grouchy. 

“What about you?” He asked and she just pointed at her violin case, propped up against the bed. It didn’t look like it had taken any damage, thank goodness, otherwise she probably would be in tears. That violin was the only thing Reginald Hargreeves had ever given her. 

The hospital wanted to keep her in overnight for observation but Vanya insisted that Diego go home, rather than spend the night there. Secretly, he was grateful. He’d already used up all of his small talk topics with Vanya and didn’t know what else he was supposed to say to her. They were nothing alike, their adopted father being the only thing they had in common. Ideally, Diego didn't want to bring up the topic of their siblings. 

Diego didn’t even know what she liked, outside of violin. 

“Is she doing okay?” It shocked him to hear Eudora’s voice as he left the hospital. He turned to see her getting up from one of those uncomfortable plastic chairs and realised that she must’ve been sitting in the waiting room and part of him was frustrated she’d blown off work. How many criminals had gotten away because she wasn’t out there to stop them? A much bigger part of him was secretly pleased she cared. 

He shrugged, “She’s alright. Bit of a shock to see her after a few years.”

“You never mentioned a sister before,” Eudora pried, curiously. 

Diego chuckled, glancing at her, “Two actually. Didn’t you ever wonder where my impeccable knowledge of women comes from?”

“I thought it came from being a Momma’s boy,” She teased, as they both stepped outside into the chill of the evening, and then she turned serious; she stopped by the car, her hand lingering on the door, “I spoke to the receptionist," She hesitated, "You were the fourth one they called.” 

“What? None of the others came?” Diego frowned. He knew that Klaus would probably be high and/or drunk in a dumpster somewhere, probably in need of his own medical attention, but Allison couldn’t spare five minutes of her fifteen minutes of fame? Luther couldn’t leave Dad’s side for one night? To see their little (despite all being the same age, it was impossible not to think of Vanya as the youngest), sister and check she was okay? He was glad he’d left the Academy when he did. It was full of assholes. 

The next day, he came to pick Vanya up and took her back to her apartment. 

On the drive, they didn’t talk much. She made an attempt at conversation, mentioning how it was unusually chilly for March, and he had mumbled something in agreement, keeping his eyes fixed on the road. Something unspoken hung in the air between them, a silent agreement that they wouldn't talk about their family or the fact that none of them had come to see her. Vanya gently directed him to her apartment and then got out of the car, being careful not to knock her injured arm as she did so. He got out too, seeing her to the door and awkwardly patting her on the shoulder. They definitely weren't close enough for hugs. 

Unexpectedly, Vanya turned back to him, “I’m thinking of writing a book.”

“Knock yourself out,” He told her, “And make sure you rub your success in Dad’s face after.”

She managed a small smile.


	4. The Horror

It was the anniversary of Ben’s death. 

God, how many years had it been now since his brother had died? Far too many for how fresh the wound felt. Simultaneously, Diego ached from how long it had been since he’d last spoken to his brother and at the same time it stung to think that he could barely remember what his voice sounded like. Just thinking about Ben caused a lump to form in his throat, making him swallow hard, and he wondered if he’d ever truly be able to accept it. His death had finally driven Diego away from the Academy- to grieve more than anything.

Now, several years later, Diego was stealthily slipping back into the house he’d grown up in. He didn’t drop by often, only every few months to check up on his mom, but it felt like he had to be here on the anniversary. He nearly always was. As much as he hated the Academy, it was the place where he felt closest to Ben and he knew that it was the right place to pay his respects. 

“You don’t have to creep around, silly,” His mom had already spotted him and seemed happy to see him. She was always happy to see him, even if nobody else was, and he was grateful for it today. A bitter breakup with Patch, combined with the memories of Ben, were making it tricky to keep his spirits up. He felt a little less lonely as Grace pulled him into a gentle hug. 

Diego had to check, “Is Luther around? Dad?”

“Luther’s… resting in the infirmary right now. He got hurt on a mission but he’s recovering well,” Mom informed him, in the same way she might tell him she was thinking of making eggs for breakfast, “Your father is in his office. Should I make up your bed for you?”

He shook his head, trying his best to smile at her. If Luther and Dad were out of the way, that gave him free roam of the house, which was perfect for what he wanted to do. Since she seemed lonely, Diego made a little more idle chatter with his mom before he headed upstairs. It had to be hard being stuck in this big house with only Dad and Luther for company- he knew that it would be the perfect recipe to drive him crazy- and he felt bad for leaving her here. 

It was weird to pass by his childhood bedroom, pausing only briefly in the door to glance at it and wonder why a feeling of dread crept over him. His childhood hadn’t been that bad… had it? Nothing compared to Ben or Klaus that was for sure. Their father had been a monster to all of them, (excluding Luther… sorry, he meant _Number One_ ), but Diego definitely hadn’t got the worst of it. Sometimes, he wondered what he would be like if he had. Probably smoking heroin in a dumpster with Klaus. 

All night, Diego stayed up reading until his eyes fell closed against his will. 

Stopping outside Ben’s room, he took a deep breath before he cracked the door open and peeped inside. It had remained mostly untouched since that final mission, as if it was sacred territory, and was getting dusty. Even though Dad had never explicitly banned them from going in there, there had been a sort of silent agreement to leave it alone. Preserve his memory. In spite of this, there were signs that someone had slept in the bed recently, probably Klaus, as the sheets were crumpled. Nothing else had been moved. 

“Hey Ben,” he said, softly, in case his ghost was lingering like Klaus said it did.

Not that he was going to take his junkie brother’s word on anything. It had hurt a great deal when Klaus kept insisting that Ben was in the room with them, asking the thin air to weigh in on topics, when they all knew he was in denial. Worst had been after the funeral, when he complained that 'Ben' was annoying him. Ben was gone and it was unfair to the rest of them to pretend that he wasn’t. Still... the existence of Klaus’s powers in the first place suggested that d-dead people popped up here and there. Why wouldn’t Ben revisit his old room on the anniversary of his death?

Diego shook his head, sitting down on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. He couldn’t start thinking like that or he’d end up as crazy as Klaus. _Just do what you came to do_. Sighing, he lifted his head back up and picked up the old book he’d tossed on the bed. It was worn with use and the dust jacket was creased from when he used to carry it around with him all the time. Ben had leant to him just a few days before… It was all he had of him. 

“I brought you something of yours, Ben,” Diego said, turning the book over in his hands, fully aware that he was talking to nobody, “Thanks for letting me borrow it. It, uh, it was as g-good as you said it was.”

Growing up, they’d been the only two of their siblings that shared a love of books. People were always surprised to find out that Diego was a reader- or, at least, he had been before they’d lost Ben- but books had provided an escape that nothing else could. They let him get away from his life, his father, and his number for a few hours. Nowadays, he couldn’t find the energy to do it anymore. 

It only seemed right to return Ben’s book. 

He was planning to leave it on the beside table but there was already a book lying open, facedown and covered with dust. Another fantasy novel, Ben's genre of choice. He used to tease him about it. Tracing the spine, Diego found that his hands were trembling a little. Ben had obviously been in the middle of it when he'd left for the mission. Now, he’d never get to finish. 

The sound of somebody stumbling down the corridor startled him out of his daze and Diego practically leapt to his feet, nearly knocking the book onto the floor. Somebody was in the corridor, mumbling to themselves, and he relaxed when he realised it must be his brother. Of course, Klaus would be here on the anniversary. He’d always been close with Ben, especially as they’d grown older. Joined at the hip, Mom liked to joke. 

Moving towards the door, Diego slid the book back onto the bookshelf, “Sorry, I borrowed it for so long. I know you’d be pissed about it if you were still...” His voice trembled, “H-he-here.” 

As he drew his hand away, a familiar pair of green eyes peered through the crack in the door and Klaus coughed to draw his attention. The amount of noise Klaus had made just walking down the corridor, Diego wasn't surprised to see him there. They hadn’t seen each other in a few months but, if possible, Klaus looked even worse than when they’d last met. Dark purple circles ringed his eyes and he was skin and bone underneath his faux fur coat, as if he was wasting away on the spot. When Diego didn’t say anything, Klaus took a cautious step towards him.

“Ben says…” He started, gingerly, and Diego rolled his eyes.

“We’ve been through this so many times, Kla-“

Stubbornly, his brother stuck out his lower lip, “Look, you don’t have to believe me. Don’t shoot the messenger and all that. I just wanted to let you know that he’s here,” He gestured in the direction of the bed, “And he wants you to know the book is yours if you want it,” He looked to the bed, as if someone there really was talking to him, “The one on the bedside table. He wants you to finish it for him, tell him the ending.”

Of course, Diego didn’t believe him, even if the sincerity in his voice did make his chest hurt. He sounded dead serious as he held Diego's gaze... but he knew that his brother was lying. Klaus had said himself that he couldn’t see ghosts when he was drunk or high and right now, he was definitely both if the swagger in his step and dilated pupils were anything to go by. Despite himself, Diego couldn’t help glancing back at the book and his brother started insisting that he take it, that it was what Ben wanted. He didn’t buy a word of it.

Still, he walked back over and swept the book off the bedside table, closing it sharply. He couldn’t help being annoyed that Klaus had interrupted his quiet moment of mourning with his nonsense babble. His brother only had good intentions, he knew that, but Klaus’s pretence that Ben was still around hurt more than Diego wanted to admit.

As he walked out of the room, book clutched to his chest, Klaus followed, “Where are we going? I’ll get my things!”

“We’re not going anywhere,” Diego told him, “I’m going home. I’ll drop you… and Ben," He was such an idiot for feeding into his brother's delusions but it made him perk up, "Drop you off wherever you want. A diner?”

“Oh, goody!” Klaus clapped his hands enthusiastically, “Brother of the year! No, not you, Ben,” He hissed at someone that wasn’t there over his shoulder, “No, I don’t care that it’s your death day, get over yourself. No, I’m not going to mark it like Diego. He’s not the one stuck with you!”


	5. Space Boy

Dad had always pitted them against each other in training, insisting that it would help them practice their hand to hand combat, which meant that Diego was used to being Luther’s punching bag. He wasn’t surprised when it happened again at the funeral. Tense situations always made him more irritable and there was nothing more irritating than Luther.

Especially when Luther was trying to defend their father. Pretend he wasn't the monster he was. 

Obviously, Diego knew that he shouldn’t hold it against him. During a few sessions of court mandatory therapy, (which he purposefully hadn’t mentioned to his siblings), Reginald Hargreeves had come up a lot and so had the fact that Luther didn’t seem to be angry at him. How could he not be angry at him? How could he look up to him? After everything they’d put him through. It drove Diego crazy. 

“Sounds like classic Stockholm Syndrome,” The therapist had said, drumming his pen against a notepad, “But we’re here to talk about your anger issues, Diego. Not your brother. Why did you think it was appropriate to throw a knife at that police officer?”

He hadn’t been aiming for the police officer, as he’d pointed out several times, but that was beside the point. Afterwards, Diego had searched up the term Stockholm Syndrome and found that it sounded an awful lot like his brother: positive feelings towards the abuser, negative feelings towards the family trying to look out for them, and supportive behaviours by the victim towards the abuser. When his father had told Luther to hit him, in the training room, Luther had hit him without question. Even when he was spitting blood. 

Even when Diego thought that he was going to die there on that rubber mat. 

“You need to forgive your siblings, especially your brother,” His therapist had concluded at the end of their mandatory sessions, “Staying angry at them isn’t productive. They grew up in an abusive household too and were probably just as scared of your father.”

Diego wasn’t scared of his father. He knew he could’ve taken him in man-to-man combat easily. 

He didn’t regret cheap-shooting Luther at the last minute during their fight, grazing his arm with a knife, even if it had caused him to run off in a panic. He did regret that they’d managed to knock over Ben’s statue, their brother’s memorial crashing to the ground and shattering there. It hadn't gone unnoticed by him how the rest of their siblings had winced. Looking out of the window, he could see Klaus crouching by their father’s ashes and muttering to them as he smoked a cigarette. It wasn’t uncommon for him to talk to himself and Diego didn’t think much of it. 

But when he saw Ben’s statue, lying there… lifeless… like Ben had done during that final mission. Guilt settled in his stomach, making his insides twist uncomfortably. Absentmindedly, Diego wondered if he’d be able to heave the statue back onto the plinth by himself, (or with Klaus’s help, though he was built like a noodle), but knew deep down that they wouldn’t be able to do it without Luther. Shit, Luther. There had been a fear Diego didn't recognise in his eyes as he ran away. If Ben was here, he would’ve been pissed at them.

Well, as pissed as Ben was capable of being, considering he was basically a marshmallow. 

Before he could change his mind about it, Diego heaved himself off the couch and headed up the stairs to the second floor, taking them two at a time. Luckily, Luther hadn’t managed to get many decent hits in, otherwise his huge fists probably would’ve knocked Diego out cold in one blow. With that in mind, he wondered how his brother had bulked up so much since he’d last seen him. It had been a few years, sure, but he was ridiculously huge now. It seemed like it would take a lot of protein shakes to get that big…

He chuckled to himself, passing Allison’s closed door. 

Diego wondered if being back here brought back bad memories for anyone else, though he was pretty sure the baggie of pills he’d seen Klaus carrying around with him like a party favour answered that question. Luther or Allison, though, he didn’t know about them; they were much harder to read and being dad’s favourites had probably saved them a lot of trauma. It couldn't have been easy on them either, he reminded himself, growing up in a hellhouse like this. They were probably just better at hiding it, his therapist had said.

As for Vanya… he couldn't care less if being here made her feel bad. She _should_ feel bad what she did. Diego never would’ve encouraged her to write that book if he knew that she was going to flesh it out with all of his secrets. Now, anyone in the world could pick up that book and pry into his childhood. It had already been hard to get folks down at the police station to take him serious, before they’d found out he wet his bed up until the age of eleven. Thanks for that, Vanya. 

“Luther?” He knocked lightly on his door, half hoping his brother would just tell him to piss off. At least then, he wouldn't have to talk to him and could say he tried. When there was no response, he pushed the door open and leaned against the doorway. 

His brother looked up at him, looking disappointed to see him, “Oh… Diego. Back for round two?”

He’d probably been expecting Allison. Gross. 

“Wouldn’t want to do you anymore damage, bro,” Diego said smugly, eyeing the blood staining his brother’s overcoat, “I bet Dad would love it if he was here. His little lab rats fighting over him.”

“Don’t talk about him like that!” Luther snapped at him, hackles rising, and he turned away from the records he’d been inspecting to glare at him. Alright, touchy topic. That was understandable, seeing as their father had died only a few days ago and they'd only just put him in the ground, (metaphorically speaking). Even if he had been a complete ass right up until the end. 

Thinking of Ben’s statue, lying on its side in the courtyard, Diego sucked in a breath, “Look, I’m sorry things got out of hand down there.”

His brother raised an eyebrow at him. Maybe he was right to be suspicious, since they’d fought for years and Diego had never even thought about issuing an apology before. But hey! He was a changed man now. He’d been to therapy and thought about his feelings and all that crap. At least, that was going to be his excuse if anyone called on it. In reality, he didn’t really know what had prompted him to come up here in the first place. Was it just lingering guilt about Ben? Their childhood? Or something bigger than that?

“Thanks,” Luther told him, finally, “Being back here really brings out the worst in you, huh?”

Even Diego couldn’t help chuckling at that, “Me? Have you seen Klaus, prancing around in a skirt and thinking nobody’s noticed him smuggling shit out of dad’s office?”

“Klaus has always been Klaus,” His brother smiled wryly, turning back to his records so that he didn’t have to look at him, “If it’s worth anything, I’m sorry too. Though, I did let you win.”

“Yeah, yeah, I could take you any day, _big_ brother,” Diego rolled his eyes, pushing off from the doorway and heading back down the corridor. Who said he wasn’t capable of civil interaction? 

Just as he was about to head down the stairs, he heard shuffling behind him and Luther called out to him, looking comically large as he ducked under the doorframe, “Hey, Diego!” 

He stopped to glance back at him, curiously, “What?”

“Dad would’ve been happy you came,” Luther said it like was it was meant to be a compliment.

Turning away from him, Diego snorted and walked away, leaving his brother standing there like an idiot. Which he was- he always had to bring it back to old Reggie. Didn’t he get that the rest of them have lives now? They weren’t Dad’s playthings anymore, his ashes scattered around the yard should be enough to prove that. And he got the feeling Dad wouldn’t have cared if he died, let alone if he bothered to show up to the funeral. Maybe Luther was just trying to get him to rise to another challenge, eager to rub Diego's face in the dirt this time, but that wasn't really his style. There again, nobody could ever work out what was going on in Luther's thick head. 

He flopped back onto the couch with a sigh. Diego was still lying there when he heard the music overheard.


	6. The Seance

Although he didn’t know what he’d done, Diego had obviously done something to upset his brother. No, not that one. Not that one either. He was talking about Klaus, who had skulked away from him the second they got back and shut himself in his room. 

At first, he’d thought Klaus was just pissed about leaving the 60s behind, (for the second time), and consequently the ‘love of his life’. He could be pretty melodramatic when it came to that kind of thing. But a few days went by and he was otherwise cheerful, bouncing amicably around the house chattering the ear off anyone who would listen. Until he saw Diego looking at him.

When he looked at Diego, his smile dropped and he sulked, refusing to meet his eyes. It wouldn’t have been unusual at all if he’d done something to piss him off- it happened but they always made up eventually- but this time, Diego genuinely had no idea what he’d did. He thought they’d travelled back to 2019 on good terms, especially since he let Klaus bring the stupid cowboy hat that he now flaunted regularly. 

Eventually, Diego couldn't take the silent treatment anymore and snapped, “Klaus, can you just tell me why you’re avoiding me?”

They were all sitting around the breakfast table, discussing something or other to do with the Commission. Only a few days had passed since they'd gotten from the past, so everyone was hanging around for a few days until they got their shit together and apparently that meant lots of family meetings. Honestly, Diego didn’t know what they'd been talking about because he hadn’t bothered listening, just poking at the eggs Mom had made for him and wondering why Klaus was scowling. He was just sitting there, playing with his dog tags thoughtfully, and nearly fell out of his seat in surprise when Diego yelled. 

Everyone else turned to look at him and Allison raised an eyebrow, “Rude, much? We’re in the middle of a conversation here."

“He won’t even look at me,” Diego hissed furiously, “And I have no idea what I did wrong-“

Vanya shrugged her shoulders, “I don’t think yelling at him will help.”

Of course, Klaus didn't say anything and just continued avoiding eye contact. The rest of them resumed their conversation after the pause, only Klaus and Diego staying out of it, though it felt a little forced now. Diego didn’t take his eyes off his older brother, silently pleading for him to look at him. He never did. Maybe it was his fault for yelling, which he already felt bad about. He knew that Klaus didn’t like loud noises but had forgotten in his frustration and had now probably blown his chance of getting to the bottom of whatever was going on. 

When Mom came to clean up their breakfast dishes, Klaus made a break for the stairs, walking quickly with his arms wrapped around himself, and Diego trailed him. Under his breath, he started mumbling apologies and begging to know what was going on but Klaus either didn’t hear him or choose to ignore him as he climbed up the stairs. Unnaturally quiet, (he hadn’t been this quiet since they’d he’d had his jaw wired shut for two weeks), Klaus slunk miserably into his room and tried to shut the door behind him. Before he could, Diego wedged his foot in the way. 

For a moment, Klaus tried to push him out of the way and close the door properly. Diego stood his ground. So, in the end, his brother just shook his head and let go of the door, allowing it to drift open. 

“I didn’t mean to yell, Klaus,” Diego told him, making sure to keep his voice low and steady, “I’m sorry. Can you… can you just tell me what’s wrong? This isn’t like you.”

Folding his arms across his chest, Klaus let out a harsh laugh, “You shouldn’t have a problem with it then, should you, Diego? We all know you’d prefer it if someone else took my place,” He paused, looking away, “Not that the others don’t but they wouldn’t have the balls to say it to my face. So, good for you, I guess. You’re a colossal ass.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Diego demanded, shutting the door behind him, “Why would I want to get rid of you?”

He had no idea where Klaus had got this idea from. A few months ago, he would've blamed a bad trip but Klaus wasn't taking anything anymore, except for the occasional drink. Maybe the drugs had addled his brain. But Diego couldn't think of a single time when he'd wished Klaus would go away- at least, not out loud. Out of his brothers, Klaus was by far the one he found most tolerable. Hell, send Five back to the future for all he cared (not that he really meant it) but he'd genuinely missed Klaus when they'd been separated. 

“God, Diego!” Klaus pressed his hands to his face, tilting his head back in exasperation, “I know you and Luther only have one brain cell between the two of you but you are being exceptionally thick. Let me jog your memory,” He glowered and mocked in a sing-song voice, “ _Luther sniffs Dad’s underwear_.” 

Frowning, Diego took a step towards him, “Ben?” 

And then the penny dropped. 

It had been back in Dallas, when he’d finally managed to track Klaus down to his mansion and told him that they needed to get back ASAP so they could get home. Only when he’d found Klaus, he was tripping (or so he thought) and insisting that he was Ben in Klaus’s body. As crazy as it sounded, it was definitely Ben and he'd been able to prove it to him. Their brother, Ben, was there. It had been seventeen years since he died- or, while they were in 1963, forty nine years until he died- and Diego had been so desperately happy to see him. When they were kids, they'd been close and losing Ben had been like having something ripped out of him. 

He’d crushed him in a hug. Despite it being Klaus’s body he was hugging, he could tell that Ben was the one who was hugging him. It was the way that he had held him, tight and eagerly, with his hands squeezing the fabric of Diego’s jacket tightly. Immediately, Diego was a teenager hanging out with his brother again, back before the entire world had gone to hell. And as they’d started heading back to the alleyway, Ben had started talking about switching back with Klaus. But Diego wasn't ready to say goodbye to him yet, eager to hold onto him. 

And Diego had said-

Oh, shit. 

Excited to see his brother after so many years, even if it wasn’t in the way he expected, Diego had said, “Oh, no, no, no, no, no, okay? You stay in this body,” He tapped Ben on the chest, “We need someone responsible behind the wheel, alright?” 

_Stay in this body. Someone responsible._ No wonder Klaus was so angry with him. 

Looking down at him, with an anger that was frankly scary and alien on his face, each of Klaus’s words felt like an individual stab in the chest, “You. Stay. In. This. Body.”

Advancing towards him, Diego raised his hands in a surrender, “Klaus, I didn’t mean-“

He didn’t have time to react as an invisible force (ghosts?) slammed into him and knocked him into the bookcase. Instantly, his back and head were aching, his ears ringing loudly. The force of the impact was enough to knock some of the books off the shelf and Diego shielded his head with his hands, still too late to prevent a copy of _Magick and Cocaine_ from smacking him in the face. When he tried to get up, something invisible, like a giant hand, pinned him there. Okay, he probably deserved that. 

“Oh, you stay here, Ben. We’d all much rather have you around than our junkie brother,” Klaus was talking in his usual jokey way, waving his hands around, but there was hurt and anger laced through his words, “Just keep Klaus locked away while you do whatever you want! Who cares what Klaus wants? He's a piece of shit anyway!” 

It was obvious that these thoughts had been ruminating in his mind since they’d gotten back. In those long moments where Klaus had sat silently and glowered, he must have been going over these thoughts again and again. He thought they wanted to get rid of him. That Diego wanted to replace him with Ben. Diego wondered if it was best to try and tell him that it wasn’t true, that he did want Klaus here, it was just a misunderstanding, or if that would just result in him being thrown against the wall again. 

He could see tears forming in his brother’s eyes and jumped in at the moment of weakness:

“Klaus? Klaus? Listen, buddy, what I said-“ 

He cried out, something desperate and animal in his eyes, “I know what you meant!” 

Again, Diego felt like he was being grabbed around the middle by something invisible and tossed aside like a ragdoll. He flew through the air, crashing into the other wall and then landing on the floor with a sickening crack. Pain shot through his body and he groaned involuntarily, rolling over so that he could look at Klaus. Soft, cuddly, sweet Klaus was looking at him with a murderous look in his eyes. 

And was it Diego’s imagination or was the furniture moving on its own? Either he had hit his head way too hard or Klaus's bed was hovering a foot off the ground, along with several other items of furniture. He had no idea what was doing it- the only thing that came to his aching head was that it must be Vanya somehow but she was nowhere in sight and had her abilities under control now. Unless... it was Klaus? 

“It still hurts, Diego,” Klaus’s voice broke and the anger seemed to drain out of him all out of once. He drooped, hanging his head, and the bed really must have been floating because it landed on the floor with a crash. They were probably lucky it didn't smash through the floorboards and flatten whatever unlucky sibling was downstairs. If it had been him throwing Diego like that, (a possibility he couldn't think about right now), then it must've taken a lot of energy out of him. 

Covering his ears reflexively at the noise, Klaus sunk down into a crouch and pressed his head against his knees, sniffling. He looked so pathetic all of a sudden, like a little boy again, that Diego wondered how he had seemed so terrifying just seconds ago. 

“I’m sorry,” Diego said, his voice heavy with regret, but he didn’t dare move any closer, “I’m really sorry, Klaus. I was just… it’s been so long since I’ve seen Ben. I missed him. I didn't want him to leave again.”

Choking on a sob, his brother rocked on his toes, “I miss him too. So much.”

This time, Diego managed to drag himself closer to his brother, crawling along on the floor because even moving his leg made it throb in pain. When he reached Klaus, he let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding and gently touched his shoulder. For a minute, Klaus didn’t even seem to notice he was there and just continued muttering to himself, tears flowing easily down his cheeks now. Then, he leaned into Diego’s touch, as if he was trying to ground himself. 

Somebody was knocking on the door, probably a concerned sibling who'd heard the noise, but that seemed like the least of Diego's priorities right now. He'd get to the rest of them, once he was done comforting Klaus and making sure that he wasn't going to throw any more furniture. And once he'd apologised to Klaus for what he'd said. That in mind, Diego opened his arms and Klaus practically fell into them, pressing his head into his brother’s shoulder. His anger now faded, Klaus just seemed grateful that someone else was there. 

“I know, man,” He rubbed his brother’s back, “I never wanted to replace you with Ben. Who would make fun of the others with me then, hm?” 

Klaus let out a sad laugh, clinging to Diego like, if he didn't, he'd float away just like the furniture had tried to.

“I figured you didn’t mind him possessing you. Since the dead is kind of your thing,” Diego murmured, brushing his brother's hair out of his face. The curls had stuck to his skin, wet with tears, and Klaus only cried harder at his gentle touch. 

Klaus shook his head, mumbling between sobs, “I didn’t mind at first. Then, he wouldn’t give it back. It was like…” He trembled like a leaf, “It was so dark in there. I didn’t know what was going on, I could only hear what was going on outside. Hear and feel it. Not see it, like being blind. And he wouldn’t let me come back out,” He gripped Diego desperately, digging his fingernails in, “I didn’t think I was ever going to get out of there.”

“Ben’s a dick,” He said and added quickly, “You never have to do that again, Klaus. Nobody will make you.”

“He is a dick," Klaus agreed but he looked distraught; he sucked in a deep breath, as if he was going to calm down, and then howled at the top of his lungs, "But I miss him! No matter what I try, he won’t come back! It hurts so much!” 

That was when the door was flung open and Luther stumbled in, as if he’d been trying to force the door open with his shoulder. Later, they’d realise that Klaus had been holding it shut subconsciously- if he was here, Dr Moncton would’ve had a field day with this tidbit. But in the moment, Luther just stared at the two of them crumpled on the ground. Allison was hot on his heels, Vanya bringing up the rear. No time for doors, Five popped into the room and landed on the bed, raising the question of why they hadn't sent him in to investigate when they'd found the bedroom door was stuck. Then again, Luther wasn't the brightest leader.

Unperturbed, Klaus continued to wail pathetically for his brother, (the only one who wasn't there), and begged Diego to bring him back. 

“I miss him!” Klaus started beating his fists against Diego’s chest furiously and he waved the others off when they tried to remove him. It hurt like a bitch, (his brother was much stronger than he'd given him credit for), but he was willing to take a beating if it meant nobody else got hurt and Klaus would no doubt tire himself out eventually. 

He locked eyes with Luther, “Let’s just let him work through it. I’ll fill you in later.”

“Like hell you will,” Five glowered at him from the bed, "Diego, look at your leg."

He hadn't given his leg much thought, even though he could feel the pain pulsing through it. When he'd been thrown against the wall, something had cracked and now, as he looked down at the unnatural leg that his leg was bent at, he was pretty sure he could conclude it was a bone. Looking at the injury caused bile to rise in his throat but he swallowed it down, turning back to Klaus, who was still using him as a punching bag. Without giving him much choice in the matter, Luther stepped forward and peeled Klaus off him. 

“It hurts so badly!" Klaus sobbed, finally going limp in his brother's arms. 

“We know, buddy, we know,” Luther soothed, surprisingly gently, "Five, why don't you and Allison take Diego to the infirmary? Me and Vanny will look after Klaus until he calms down."

Stubbornly, Diego said, "I want to stay with him."

"Come on, idiot, you can check up on him later," Allison hooked her arms underneath his and hoisted him off the floor, Five being careful to avoid his bad leg as he lifted him up, "You've done enough for now."

They dragged him from the room, despite his protests, and he was forced to accept to leave it in Luther's hands. 

"You don't have to save everyone, Diego," Five reminded him.


End file.
